This is the House That Doubt Built
by Attila the Hahn
Summary: Severus has a different way of looking at James Potter's son, and Draco was raised in slightly different circumstances. What effects can the smallest changes of circumstance have on their lives? SS/HP MENTOR fic.
1. Prologue

It was grief that fueled Severus's anger, and anger was the only thing pushing his exhausted body to continue through the charred, broken house in Godric's Hollow. Lily—beautiful, vibrant, full of life Lily—was dead because of him. It was almost enough to send him collapsing among the ruins.

The trek through the house was dangerous, and Severus had to cover his mouth to keep the bile from rising as he picked through it when he spotted Potter's body at the foot of the stairs. He finally made it to the nursery, where anguish overcame him and he collapsed. It was one thing to know of the Potters' deaths, the knowledge of the house's location finally coming to him when the Fidelius charm collapsed, but it was a whole other thing to see Lily Potter's lifeless form stretched among the wrecked nursery.

Severus's anguish was interrupted by the mingled cries of "Mama," incomprehensible babbles, and crying. He picked himself off the floor and found his way through the wreckage, around Lily, to the overturned crib.

The boy was lying on his side, and Severus painstakingly pulled the child into his arms. "Hush, child." His voice was nowhere near what one would call soothing, but the softened tone seemed to calm the boy.

There wasn't a scratch on the child, save for the lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead. "You were touched by evil tonight, Potter," he whispered. "Lord help us, you're the Savior of the Wizarding World."

By the time Severus exited the old house, Harry was fast asleep in his lanky arms. "Albus." It was no real surprise to see the old man, but his grip on the baby tightened as if the Headmaster was about to pull the child from his arms.

"Severus, my boy." Albus's chin lifted as he gazed at James and Lily Potter's house. His face was lined with deep sorrow for his former students. "He's really gone."

It was not a question, and Severus did not treat it as such. "Potter's body is at the foot of the stairs, and Lily's—" His voice cracked with emotion. "Lily's is in the nursery."

Albus's eyes ventured from the house to Severus's face. "Take him to Hogwarts, my boy," he said gently. "I believe the crowd is beginning to form."

Severus allowed Albus to swaddle the one-year-old so he could prepare to Apparate to Hogsmeade. "Such a vast destiny for one so young," Albus observed sadly, stepping away from the two.

Severus held the boy close and Apparated, thinking how much of a shame it would be to splinch the baby so soon after his surviving and defeating the Dark Lord.

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><p>After handing the baby over to Hagrid, Severus made his way to his home in Spinner's End. The half-giant would keep the boy safe while the Potion Master prepared for the inevitable celebrations and Death Eaters' disappearances. While he was not a well-known Death Eater, there were people that strongly suspected him to be in the Dark Lord's inner circle. Dumbledore was the only thing standing between him and a well-deserved sentence to Azkaban.<p>

It took three days before Severus's solitude was interrupted. "Where is the boy?" he asked, unable to completely keep the snide tone out of his voice when asking about the "Boy Who Lived."

"He was sent to live with relatives of his mother," Dumbledore answered seriously. "That is not why I have called on you, however." His eyes sad and his voice grave, he folded his hands in front of him. "When Lucius Malfoy denied any association with the Dark Lord, Bellatrix Lestrange, who Narcissa was hiding out of familial obligation, came out of hiding and attacked the man." He bowed his head mournfully. "Narcissa stepped in front of the killing curse that would have killed Lucius."

Severus's face remained impassive as he listened to the Headmaster's story. "And Draco?" he asked with feigned disinterest. His godson was a mere month older than Harry, and he could not help the fear that leapt within him.

"Lucius killed Bellatrix. Young Mr. Malfoy was safe and sleeping at the time." Dumbledore studied Severus thoughtfully over his half-moon glasses. "Lucius is nearly mad with grief over his wife and will allow no one to enter his grounds. I am afraid that his actions may lead to a retraction of his previous denial in the eyes of the Ministry."

Severus hid his shock behind a weak sneer. Dumbledore was looking at him imploringly, knowing that Lucius was a known Death Eater and willing to allow Severus to help his friend. Not just allowing it—expecting it. _Probably for Draco's sake,_ he thought to himself as he nodded and stood. "Thank you, Headmaster."

Dumbledore watched Severus exit his office, sorrow threatening to overtake him. In a short expanse of time, two children had lost parents and several previous Hogwarts students—his own students—murdered. It was a dark time, and he knew that it was going to get worse before it got a chance to get better.


	2. Chapter 1: The Potions Master

**I forgot to do this in the first chapter: I do not own Harry Potter or the character and places associated. I am writing this for entertainment purposes only. **

**I just kinda threw this story out there without explaining the premises. I love reading Harry/Snape mentor stories and thought I would try my own. Snape will have gotten Harry from the wreck that was his house after Voldemort's presence, and I thought it was only fitting that he call on Harry after the letters fiasco. This begins in the first book at the end of chapter three. Original lines from the book are in _italics._**

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><p><em>One minute to go and he'd be eleven. Thirty seconds…twenty…ten…nine—maybe he'd wake Dudley up, just to annoy him—three…two…one…<em>

_BOOM._

Harry sat up and stared at the door, watching as it shook on its very frame. There was something or someone trying to get in. Was it his imagination or was the door glowing faintly? No, that must have been lightning.

BOOM.

There. The glow was weak, but it was there. Harry turned sharply when he heard his Uncle Vernon crash into the room behind him. He was holding a rifle in his hands.

"_Who's there?" he shouted. "I warn you—I'm armed!"_

Harry's heart leapt in his throat when the sound stopped. Maybe whoever or whatever it was had gone. He flinched violently when the door smashed open, flying to the floor with such force that it upset the dirt and gravel. The young boy was half-expecting a giant to be standing at the door for how it flew off its hinges, but the lightning from outside lit up the sky, showing the silhouette of a tall, slender man with dark hair.

The man stepped into the room with a rather distasteful look, making Harry feel self-conscious, as if he should somehow better accommodate him. He lifted a stick in his right hand that Harry had not previously noticed and murmured something. The door suddenly lifted and fit itself back into the frame. He then turned to face the four people.

"A cup of tea after standing outside in this ridiculous weather would be too much to ask, yes?" he asked. He stalked across the room to the sofa with his cloak billowing behind him. A mere look at Dudley had the boy scampering to hide behind his parents.

The man sat down gracefully, looking around the room with a disgusted look on his face. When his eyes rested on Harry, his mouth curled into a sneer. "Harry Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World."

_Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise. "I demand you leave at once, sir!" he said. "You are breaking and entering."_

The man glanced behind himself at the fat man and lifted his stick. "_Accio_ rifle," he said, waving his stick. The rifle flew right into his hands. He then tapped it with his stick and it vanished. "Your idiocy astounds me, Dursley." He turned back to Harry and grimaced as if the sight of the boy offended him.

Harry was dumbfounded. Bracing himself for the blow he knew would surely come, he asked, "Who are you?"

The man drew himself up, causing Harry to flinch and instinctively back away. The man paused and stared at Harry curiously. "Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts."

The gasp from Aunt Petunia had both Severus and Harry turning. "You!" she spat in anger and fear. "You—You!"

Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes—barely. "Yes, me." He turned his back on her and studied Harry. "What are you wearing, boy?"

Harry plucked self-consciously at his oversized tee-shirt. "My clothes, Mr. Snape, sir."

Severus's brow furrowed. "They look as if they would be better suited for a small elephant. Where is your jacket?" He was considerably confused and only then thought of the fact that the boy was probably freezing, having no access to a wand to cast a warming spell on himself. He looked around and snorted derisively at the obviously poor attempt to build a fire. He pointed his wand at the grate and a fire sprang to life.

Harry felt immediate warmth wash over him and moved closer to the fire and therefore Severus. "How did you _do_ that?" he cried joyously.

Severus stared at Harry as if he had grown another head. Understanding washed over him in a second, and a cloud darkened his already unpleasant face. "Magic, Mr. Potter."

_Uncle Vernon suddenly found his voice. "Stop!" he commanded. "Stop right there, sir! I forbid you to tell the boy anything!"_

Severus turned to Vernon with a snarl mangling his face. "You never told him _anything_?" he asked quietly, ice infusing every word. "You never told him what was in the letter that Dumbledore left him? You've kept it from him all these years?"

"_Kept _what_ from me?" said Harry eagerly._

"_STOP! I FORBID YOU!" yelled Uncle Vernon in panic. Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of horror._

Severus turned back to Harry, shaking in pent up rage. "Mr. Potter—Harry. I'm—_you _are a wizard."

Silence suffused the room. Harry could hear the crashing of the waves and the howling wind, but the sounds were not quiet registering. If it wasn't for Petunia and Vernon's solid assurance that magic was not real then he would have thought Severus's appearance—the past several days—were part of a huge, elaborate joke. As it was, a feeling of complete desperation sank into his bones. "I'm sorry, sir. I think you got the wrong person. I'm no wizard."

Severus stared at him. Surely, the boy would know better than to exercise his impertinence in such a setting? "I have made no mistake, Mr. Potter." He drew a yellowish envelope from an inside pocket of his cloak and extended it to Harry.

With shaking hands, Harry took the letter and stared at the emerald green ink. The address left no room for mistakes. _Mr. H. Potter, The Floor, Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea. _He slowly pulled the letter from the envelope and read:

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_ We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed list of all necessary books and equipment. _

_ Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall,_

_Deputy Headmistress _

Harry looked up at Severus with his brow furrowed in confusion. "I don't understand how this can be possible." He ran his hand through his already unruly hair, reminding Severus infuriatingly of James Potter. "And what does the letter mean, they await my owl?" He had so many questions. They were ready to burst forth, even with the unpleasant look on Severus's face.

"It has already been taken care of, Mr. Potter," Severus said, settling in. He opened his mouth to say something else, _but at that moment, Uncle Vernon, still ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the fire-light._

"_He's not going," he said._

Severus stared at the fat Muggle, amused in a disinterested kind of way. The man was obviously raving mad. "And you think you're going to stop him, Muggle?" he asked, putting the tip of his index finger lightly against the tip of his wand.

"_We swore when we took him in we'd put a stop to that rubbish," said Uncle Vernon, "swore we'd stamp it out of him! Wizard indeed!"_

"_You knew?" said Harry. "You knew I'm a—a wizard?"_

"_Knew!" shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. "Knew! Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that—that school—and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was—a freak!"_

Petunia was getting herself wound up and began rounding on Severus. "And you, with your majestic stories even before she got her letter. You—" _She stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on. It seemed she had been waiting to say all this for years. _

"_Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had you, and of course I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as—as—abnormal—and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!"_

Harry felt stunned. He felt like his world was crashing down around his ears, and everything he ever knew was just—_wrong_. "You lied to me. You have been lying to me all along." His temper was building, and his hands curled into fists as he stalked closer to his aunt, uncle, and cousin. "You are _liars_!"

Severus was content to allow the familial drama to play out. After all, it was interesting to see what kind of environment his enemy's son had been raised in. If his impertinence was anything to judge it by, the discipline was not up to par.

A thought struck Harry as he came to stand in front of his Uncle Vernon. "She got herself blown up?" he asked, suddenly recalling Petunia's words through his anger. "You said they died in a car crash!"

Two things happened simultaneously: Uncle Vernon's hand shot out and caught Harry across the face, and Severus pulled his wand. It was as if he had materialized in front of the family. "You would do well to keep your hands to yourself, Dursley," he warned quietly, his voice deadly and his wand at Vernon's throat.

Harry pushed himself up from where he was sprawled on the floor. His hands went to his glasses, keeping them on his face. He winced when his hand made contact with the cut caused by his glasses cutting into his face. If only Uncle Vernon would just mind the glasses. "It's okay, Mr. Snape." He tugged on the man's robe and flinched back when the man sent him a scathing look. "I'm okay."

Severus contemplated using an Unforgiveable on the despicable wretch of a man. Azkaban would undoubtedly be worth it. "It is never okay for a grown man to hit a child in such a fashion, Potter." He glared at the man and slowly lowered his wand. "As such, we are leaving for the night. If you have anything here, ready it."

Harry's hand twitched and he thought about pretending he had something of importance. The pretense would be worthless, however, so he shook his head. "I have nothing here."

It was such a simple statement, and Snape did not understand the sadness that hit him when the boy uttered those words. "Then come here. You'll have to hold onto my arm—no, you'll have to be closer than that, boy." He sent one last glare toward the cowering family and Apparated to Spinner's End.

After recovering from the insanely uncomfortable feeling of every part of his body being squeezed, Harry looked around at the dusty, dark room he found himself in. The room had a disconcerting air of neglect to it, and he wrapped his arms around himself at the lonely feeling it invoked.

"I had not planned for company," Severus said crisply as he lit the lamp hanging from the ceiling with a wave of his wand. "That was a last minute decision that I would not have made had it not been for your despicable family. Sit down." The abrupt order had Harry plopping down on the floor, and the Potions Master stared at him with a hard look. "I will not tolerate impertinence, no matter what you have endured in your lifetime, Mr. Potter. Sit in the chair like a dignified human being."

Harry immediately scrambled to his feet and made his way to the chair Severus indicated, staring around at the room in an almost awed reverence. There were so many books. It was positively _wondrous_. He sat on the very edge of the chair with his hands in his lap and tried to look what he imagined "dignified" would look like. "Have you read all these books?" he blurted when Severus sat in a chair he moved in front of Harry.

"Yes," Severus said. He grabbed Harry's chin as gently as possible and moved his head to the side so he could look at the cut. "Your glasses are broken." Rolling his eyes when the boy looked at him with a dejected expression, he tapped them with a muttered "Reparo."

Harry's jaw dropped and he pulled the glasses from his face. "They're fixed!" He excitedly pulled the tape from the nosepiece and studied them before looking back up at Severus. "Thank you so much, Mr. Snape!"

Severus's breath caught when Lily's eyes looked at him with such wonder and excitement. The resemblance to James Potter was uncanny, but it was softened without the round spectacles. "Don't." He stopped him from replacing the glasses. "I have to clean your cut."

Harry sat completely still while Severus cleaned his wound, not making a noise or moving even though Severus was certain it must have stung. "What happened to my parents?" Harry asked quietly, closing his eyes against the anger that would surely be forthcoming.

Severus was silent, contemplating the correct words to say to the young boy. He was not equipped for handling an adolescent's pain. How was he supposed to explain that the Potters were dead because of his actions, that Harry was _famous_ for surviving?

Harry replaced his glasses when Severus moved away and stared at the man. He was sitting back in his chair, and Harry was suddenly struck by how small helooked in his robes. He was about to retract his question when Severus seemed to grow before his very eyes, as if he was pulling on some inner strength.

"The story begins with a man who was the epitome of evil. There were circumstances in his life—well. About twenty years ago, he began to gather followers. He had ideals that were, in their own right, a powerful attraction. He was taking over. Some stood up to him, and he—he generally killed them." Severus's heart was beating fast. The words were coming from an unknown source, and he was afraid of revealing too much or too little.

"What was his name?" Harry asked. His stomach was clenched in fear, although he didn't understand where the fear truly came from.

"What?" Severus asked dumbly. He then cursed himself for such a foolish question. "His name was Voldemort, Potter. It is a name that most people do not speak for the fear that it invokes. You can refer to him as You-Know-Who or the Dark Lord."

Harry sat very still. "Did he kill my parents?" he asked quietly.

Severus drew in a breath. "There were conditions surrounding their deaths that I cannot explain to you but—yes. You lived in a place called Godric's Hollow. On Halloween, ten years ago, the Dark Lord walked into your house and killed your father and then—your mother. He then turned his wand on you, but he failed. The scar you bear comes from being touched by the killing curse and surviving, which no one has ever done."

"What happened to Voldemort?" Harry asked with bated breath.

Severus suppressed a flinch. "Do not use his name, boy. He—disappeared. No one really knows what _exactly_ happened, but he vanished the night he tried to kill you. Which is why you are famous, Mr. Potter." He wanted to end the conversation and dig up some firewhiskey that he knew was stashed in his Potions lab.

"I'm what? Did you say famous, sir?" Suddenly sick to his stomach, Harry realized that they really had gotten the wrong person after all. He wasn't even noticed in his own house, much less revered as something more.

"You are, Mr. Potter," Severus said, as if he sensed the young boy's thoughts. "You are considered the Boy Who Lived, the Savior of the Wizarding World. Every wizard, young and old, knows your name."

An overwhelming feeling of desperation was welling up inside Harry. Severus was _wrong_. When he figured out that he was wrong, he would blame Harry. "Sir—"

"It's time for bed," Severus interrupted none too gently. "We have a long day tomorrow and it will be here before you know it."

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><p><strong><em>Please Review. It helps with the muse!<em>**


	3. Chapter 2: Diagon Alley

**A/N: I realize it has been quite a while since I have updated. I have a hectic schedule, but I hope the length of this chapter more than makes up for it. I am struggling with Snape's character a bit, but that is to be expected when putting him on sympathetic terms with Harry Potter**_. Quotes directly from the book are written in italics._

Harry awakened slowly, the sunlight filtering through his eyelids, and realized with a sinking feeling that that past days were probably a wicked dream, designed to make him ache for something that could never be. He stayed still, trying to control his breathing as despair began to take over.

"Potter, no matter how hard you clench your eyes closed, the sun will not go away. We shall not waste the day." Harry's eyes popped open, and he stared in wonder at the unfriendly face of Severus Snape. The sneer that Harry quickly realized was very nearly a permanent fixture to the sallow-skinned face was possibly the most remarkable thing he could have woken up to. "I took the liberty of getting rid of your—" He paused, searching for the appropriate words to describe the rags that had adorned the boy's body the day before. " Your _clothing_," he relented, unable to find a suitably descriptive word.

Sitting up quickly, Harry stared in horror at the Potions Master. Though he realized quite quickly that the man did not seem to like him, the young boy did not think his belongings would actually be in danger when he went to sleep. "Sir—"

"Relax, boy. My house elves managed to find some clothing more fitting for someone your size." Severus gestured to a small stack of clothing on a chair in the corner. "Get dressed. We have much to do today and you still have not had breakfast."

Confusion and excitement were the predominate emotions coursing through Harry as he scrambled out of the most comfortable bed he had ever been in. It was way more comfortable than even Dudley's, Harry thought with a level of guilt that teetered on the edge of fear. It was one of his dearest secrets, the time he laid on Dudley's bed.

Quickly dressing in the simple black slacks and short-sleeve button down shirt, Harry realized that his shoes had also disappeared with no replacements in sight. He quietly walked to the door and peeked out.

"Hello, Mr. Potter, sir," a high-pitched voice piped up, causing Harry's eyes to shift downward into large, watery eyes. The creature before him had long, batlike ears and a long nose. He—or she—was no more than three feet tall with nothing more than a clean white pillow case and a piece of ribbon around the waist to cover the small frame.

"Hullo," Harry said dumbly. He felt like he was in a completely new world, one which he was unaccustomed to handle. A feeling of overpowering devastation overtook him when he realized that Hogwarts would swallow him whole and spit him right back out. Then he would be right back where he started, only it would be worse because he would know what he was missing.

"My name is Batty, sir. You will be wanting to follow me to the dining room where Master Snape is waiting."

Harry followed the creature, looking around the halls as he did so. Having been exhausted from the excitement and late hour the night before, Harry had simply allowed Snape to guide him to his bedroom. It was an old house, made evident by the style of the ceilings. Though well furnished, it had an abandoned feel to it that Harry did not much care for.

"Good morning, sir. Thank you for the clothes." He smoothed his shirt-front nervously. "I did not see any shoes with the clothes—"

"I have some here, Mr. Potter." He looked the boy over critically. The clothes were almost a perfect fit, having been his own from around Harry's age. He had not found any shoes, however, and had to send for some overnight. "There are some socks as well. They are yours to keep."

Harry looked up at the professor in awe. Though the man clearly had an unpleasant disposition, he was probably one of the nicest people Harry had ever met. "Thank you, sir," he said, looking down at the shoes and touching them reverently. They were solid black, leather dress shoes. In all his life, he had never worn anything quite as new looking and shiny as the shoes the professor had given him.

Severus was immensely uncomfortable and suspicious of the way the boy was touching the shoes and holding them in his hands. "They are made to wear, young man. Unless you want them mounted on your wall?"

Harry immediately sat down and pulled on the socks that were sitting with the shoes. When he was finished tying the shoes, he stood and walked experimentally across the room. "Amazing," he whispered when he felt the shoes accommodating his small foot.

"They will last a good few years yet, Mr. Potter. Come. We mustn't dawdle any longer. There are things that must be done today. Do you have your letter?" Harry frantically searched his pockets and looked at the professor with wide, panicked eyes. "It was sitting upon the—nevermind. Batty!"

"Here, Master Snape, sir." Batty appeared at his side instantly and looked up at him in askance.

"There is a letter on the bureau addressed to Mr. Potter. Can you please retrieve it for me?"

Harry took a small bite of his eggs as he watched the creature disappear. "Sir," he said hesitantly, "What is Batty?"

Severus masked his surprise. While the question was one a muggle born would ask, he had gotten used to thinking of the great Harry Potter as a very powerful wizard. "Batty is a house elf. She is one of the Hogwarts elves, but she has taken a liking to me and claimed me as her own." The scowl on his face let Harry know what he thought of being someone's "own." "She takes care of general cleaning and cooking."

Harry ate silently while Batty reappeared and gave the letter to Severus. "Why don't you call me by my first name?"

Severus froze with the letter partially unfolded. He slowly lowered it and looked at Harry, who was concentrating fiercely on his breakfast. After a moment of thought, he decided he could afford to make some concessions where the boy was concerned. "It is a habit, Harry," he said deliberately. "While you are with me, I will call you by your first name, but when we are back at school, I will most likely resume referring to you by your surname. Is that satisfactory?"

Swallowing the last of his eggs, Harry nodded quickly and reached for his orange juice. "Sorry, sir. Do I call you Mr. Snape?"

Severus resumed unfolding the letter and studied it thoughtfully. "For the short time you will be with me, you may call me Severus. Do not think to shorten it. When we return to Hogwarts, Professor Snape will suffice." Ignoring the astounded look that seemed to take up residence on the boy's face whenever Severus did something remotely agreeable, he focused on the letter. "We will be going to London to get your school supplies, as well as picking up some new ingredients for my stores. You will stay with me at all times. Do not think to disobey me, Mister—Harry, because I am not above assigning a detention for your first night of school."

Harry stared down at his empty plate, not acknowledging the obvious threat. "Severus, sir, my uncle won't pay for my school supplies." He looked up at Severus with eyes full of devastation. "I can't go."

The boy had no faith, that was certain. "Harry, I would not have brought you hear had you no funds." The supply list slid back into the envelope with ease. "When your parents died, they left everything they owned to you. While the house and nearly everything else was destroyed, there is a sizable fund in Gringotts—the Wizarding bank."

"I have money?" The shocked cry was followed by a contemplative look. "The Dursleys don't know about it." There was no question, just a statement of fact.

"What makes you think that?" Severus asked curiously.

"Then I really wouldn't have money. Where would you like me to put this, sir?" Harry stood with his plate, intending on washing it.

Batty appeared, pulled the plate from his hands, and disappeared.

"Batty is here for a reason, Harry. Come. We will have to take muggle transportation. I apparated with you last night, but I realize how easily I could have splinched you. I will not make that mistake again."

"What is a muggle?" Harry asked as they stepped out of the front door. He watched silently as Snape flicked his wand with a muttered spell and began walking.

"A muggle is a person without an ounce of magic running through his—or her—veins. Your aunt and uncle are a prime example."

The feeling of stepping through something with the substance of jello engulfed Harry and he looked behind him. "Where did your house go?" he cried.

It was extremely difficult to retain any semblance of patience when the boy asked so many questions. He was ill equipped to deal with children's unending curiosity. "I have strong wards surrounding my home, Harry. It is unplottable by muggles and wizards alike and the floo network is limited to emergencies, which is why we are not using it to get to Diagon Alley."

Harry looked up at the man with many questions written across his face. He kept his mouth firmly closed as they walked, obviously deep in thought. It wouldn't do to upset the man, Harry knew. He also knew the rules with adults. Asking questions was not okay. There were so many questions, though! Severus seemed a harsh comparison to everyday "muggles," but maybe he was nice. He smoothed his hands over his new clothes. He was certainly nicer than the Dursleys!

Severus spent years of his life around inquiring children. Harry was no different in his curiosity, but his restraint was peculiar. "You may ask question, Harry. I will not reprimand you for your curiosity, though I may if the questions become redundant." The allowance he was making for the boy was out of character, but he could admit, at least to himself, that there was something about Harry that reached out to him.

"What is Diagon Alley? What is a floo network? Why do you need wards? Why can't muggles see your house?"

Severus stopped abruptly, causing Harry to crash into his legs. He looked down at the small boy. "Diagon Alley is a wizarding village in London. It too is unplottable by muggles. The floo network is a mode of transportation used by Wizards through a network of fireplaces. The reason for my wards is of no concern to you, and I prefer solitude from muggles and wizards alike. In the future, slow down and ask one question at a time." He nodded to a man standing outside a town car. "For now I must ask you to refrain from such questions. We can discuss your level of schooling on the way to our destination."

Harry got into the car ahead of Severus and sat staring at his hands, wondering what he was supposed to say.

"How are your writing skills?" Severus asked with feigned politeness once it was clear the boy was going to say nothing without prompting.

"I can write," Harry muttered.

Was the boy trying to be impudent? "Let me rephrase that. How are your _marks_?"

Harry groaned. "C'mon mate," the driver called back with good humor. "Give your kid a break. Not everyone is the school type."

Severus's lips tightened in annoyance. "Not everyone is, but _this_ one was the one I was speaking to."

The driver sniggered and gave the boy a sympathetic look in the rearview mirror. The man looked severe and he hoped the kid had some good news to share.

"My marks are decent—mostly," he answered begrudgingly.

Severus nodded in resignation. He could hope for little else. "You will, of course, work hard at your studies when you start school this year. Your marks should be no less than Outstanding, _especially_ in my class."

The driver winced as he pulled up to the curb. Of course the man was a teacher. It was even worse to find that his own kid would be in class with him. "Here you are, gentlemen." He winked at the boy as he exited the car and drove away.

Severus averted his eyes from the retreating car and began walking. "Keep up, Potter." He shortened his strides when he saw the struggle the boy had to maintain close proximity. They walked in silence until the professor slowed and opened the front door to the Leaky Cauldron.

Harry blinked in surprise. He had not even noticed the shop. He glanced back at the muggles rushing about, their eyes sliding right by the shop. It was another one of those unplottable places Severus had been talking about.

Severus had no plans to stop and make introductions. He knew once people realized _the Harry Potter_ was under their very noses, the crowds would swarm. "Sev'rus!" He stopped in his tracks with a degree of resignation and turned toward the half-giant lumbering toward them. A smirk formed when he felt Harry shrink and unconsciously step partially behind Severus.

"How'r ya? Yer summer's goin well I s'pose?" Hagrid grinned down at the Potion Master with a fondness not many shared. Severus was a good guy, regardless of the speculation he still stirred up.

"Yes, Hagrid, my summer is going well. I have business to attend to, however, so I must be going." Severus turned emphatically.

"Understand, understand. Have a bit o' business meself. Ya know," Hagrid lowered his voice slightly, "the you-know-what from Vault seven-thirteen."

Severus's lips tightened severely and he could almost _feel_ the question bubbling from the depths of Harry's young mind. Why Dumbledore trusted a loose-lipped fool such as Hagrid for such an important errand, he would never know. "Yes, well—"

"By lands," Hagrid whispered, his voice hitching. Severus heaved an inward sigh and prepared for what he knew was coming. "'S tha'—Harry Potter?" His giant chin began to quiver, and a hush fell over the pub.

Harry tried to move further behind Severus, but the man twisted until Harry was standing in front of him instead. The sooner they got the ridiculousness over with, the sooner they could get on with their shopping.

Harry wished the ground would open up and swallow him. The man before him was a _giant. _He wasn't a giant like he used to think Uncle Vernon was a giant. He was really, truly a giant. "Hello, sir," he said with a gulp of fear.

"I haven' seen you since you was a tyke." Great big tears began to leak out of the man's eyes. "I delivered yer to Dumbledore meself after Sev'rus brought yeh to Hogwarts." He pulled out a handkerchief as big as a small quilt and blew his nose. His awed eyes frightened Harry far more than Severus's sneers. At least scorn was something he was used to.

Severus realized how much the sudden attention was affecting the small boy, but he also realized there was little he was going to be able to do to ease the child's comfort. Attention was something he would have to get used to; he was the Savior of the Wizarding World. He mused to himself that he thought of it as a title. Harry Potter: Savior of the Wizarding World, The Boy Who Lived, The Boy Who Defeated the Dark Lord, The Boy Who Did Something As A Toddler That No One Else Could Do. He came back to himself in time to realize the entire pub was lining up in front of Harry.

Harry was overwhelmed. He wished Severus would take him away from there. He shook yet another hand and peered into the man's face with a niggling feeling of recognition. _"Delighted, Mr. Potter, just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle."_

"_I've seen you before!" said Harry, as Dedalus Diggle's top hat fell off in excitement. "You bowed to me once in a shop."_

"_He remembers!" cried Dedalus Diggle, looking around at everyone. "Did you hear that? He remembers me!"_

The people kept coming, until a pale man stepped forward. The young boy felt Severus stiffen behind him and a feeling of foreboding swept over him. "Professor Quirrel," Severus said stiffly in greeting. His Mark was burning in a peculiar way, as it had every time the other man came around. Quirrel was not to be trusted, especially around The Boy Who Lived.

"_P-P-Potter," stammered Professor Quirrel, grasping Harry's hand, "c-can't tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you."_

The man's shifting eyes and nervous demeanor gave off a feeling of _wrong_ that Harry could not put into words, even to himself. Rubbing his hands together nervously, he mustered a smile and asked politely, _"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrel?"_

"_D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrel, as though he'd rather not think about it. "N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?" He laughed nervously. "You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." He looked terrified at the very thought. _

Severus's patience was fraying at the ends, and he was ready to deliver a swift curse to every remaining person in line, including the irritating Doris Crockford who managed to shake Harry's hand no less than five times. "That's enough. Hagrid, if you would like to lead the way to Gringott's so we can get this business underway?"

Hagrid beamed happily at being addressed directly with such a clear mission.

The relief between the Potions Master and young boy was palpable as they followed the half-giant into a small courtyard behind the bar. Severus rolled his eyes when the giant of a man began to count bricks and stepped forward to tap on the correct one, firmly embedded in his memory from many years passed.

_The brick he touched quivered—it wriggled—in the middle, a small hole appeared—it grew wider and wider—a second later they were face an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight. _

"Diagon Alley," Snape said with little flourish. The amazement on Harry's face was clear as they made their way into the small town full of shops. He waved Hagrid off when the giant looked in askance at him. With Harry's gawping, it would take a few minutes to make their way to the bank. Moreover, Harry didn't need to hear the giant blathering about the all important task that had been bestowed upon him.

The cauldron shop caught Harry's eye and he stared in wonder at the many different kinds that were advertised. "You'll need one," Professor Snape cut in, "but we need to get your money first."

There was so much to see. The shops advertised the strangest things, but everyone was milling about as if it was the most normal day in the world, as if the day was not one that was turning everything upside down for Harry.

A shop selling broomsticks caught Harry's eyes and he watched silently as several boys tried to push their way to the front glass to catch sight of the racing brooms he noticed.

Severus watched silently as the boy turned his head this way and that. It was surprising he did not give himself whiplash with as much thrashing he was giving his neck. "We have arrived, boy," he said frostily. "Gringotts." The snowy white building loomed over their heads. He ignored the obvious question on Harry's face when he caught sight of the goblin standing beside the doors.

They passed through the first set of doors and the man reluctantly lingered long enough to allow the boy to read the script inlaid on the second set of doors:

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

Harry's head jerked up and he met the coolly amused eyes of his Potions Professor. "What else would there be besides treasure?" he whispered with a degree of fright.

Lips twitching, he raised an eyebrow. "How should I know, Mr. Potter? I am neither a goblin nor a thief. Let us not loiter any longer. Much of this day has been wasted already."

Harry walked a few steps behind Snape as his eyes moved in every direction, taking everything in. There were many goblins, probably hundreds! They were sitting on stools, weighing coins and precious stones or examining them through eyeglasses. And the doors! There were so many of them! He stumbled into the professor as he came to a halt and looked up in apology when the man glared down at him.

"We have come to withdraw funds from Mr. Harry Potter's vault." Severus presented the key without being asked and stood silently as the goblin examined it.

"Everything seems to be in order. Griphook!"

A goblin ambled forward, and Harry had to remind himself that it was impolite to stare. He followed Severus and the goblin, feeling completely ignorant in the way of everything magical. There was so much he didn't know. A bank ran by goblins! If someone had told him what he was going to be doing on his eleventh birthday, he would have assumed they had been reading too many storybooks.

Harry, despite his burning-yet-somewhat-silent curiosity, was a remarkably well-behaved boy. He said nothing as they climbed into the cart, nor when they rode the thing as if it were a muggle roller coaster. In fact, he kept his mouth closed and eyes wide open the entire ride. When they got out, Griphook opened the vault with the key and stood back as they green smoke billowed out.

Harry gaped at the sheer amount of money piled into the vault. There was so much of it! He looked up at Severus who frowned at him. "The money will not simply leap into your pockets, Potter," he said irritably. Harry turned and looked back at the vault. He took a hesitant step forward and stared at the silver, gold, and bronze coins.

They were never going to get to the actual shopping portion of the trip at the rate they were going. "Come on, P—Harry." He nudged the boy none too gently forward and conjured a bag from a handkerchief. "There are seventeen Sickles to a Galleon." He held up the two coins. "There are twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle." He helped the boy put enough coins into the bag to buy supplies and have a little spending money for himself. There was not enough patience in the world to put up with Harry Potter's apparent timid nature, though he figured he should count his lucky stars that the boy was not the arrogant sod he had expected.

Harry blinked into the light when they finally emerged from the underground tunnels. He wondered at the fact that Severus looked overall unaffected by just about everything. Besides the casual amusement in his eyes, the sneer did not seem to leave the man's lips.

"I am going to take you to Madam Malkin's to get your robes. I have a bit of business to take care of. Do not, and I repeat, do _not_ wander off. You will stay until I return."

Harry nodded in acquiescence. It did not occur to him to disobey. There was always hell to pay if he did not listen, and he would not give Severus any more reason to dislike him. He walked into the shop and lingered for a minute, feeling as if he was being abandoned. Hadn't the Dursleys lamented their inability to do such a thing? What was stopping Severus?

The decision to run back out and find the man was almost solidified when a squat, smiling witch materialized. _"Hogwarts, dear?" she said, when Harry started to speak. "Got the lot here—another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."_

Harry followed the woman into the back of the shop where another boy stood on a footstool while another witch pinned up his long robes. Harry stumbled when the boy turned his gray eyes on him. "Careful, dear," Madame Malkin said kindly as she righted him on the stool.

Harry stood still as the witch slipped a long robe over his head and began to pin it to the right length.

"You boys will be schoolmates," Madame Malkin said cheerfully, winking at the second witch.

Harry turned his head and looked at the curiously bright eyes of the blond boy. He had a pale, pointed face and a gaunt look about him. "Hello. My name is Harry—"

"Potter," the boy finished quietly. "I can see your scar."

Harry shifted uncomfortably and hissed quietly when his movement caused a pin to sick his arm. "Erm. Yes, well—" He cleared his throat, unable to find a proper response.

"What house do you think you'll be in, lovely?"

Harry stared at the woman blankly. House?

The blond boy recognized the lack of comprehension on Harry's face. "Slytherin," he answered quietly, with a degree of bitterness. He suddenly looked up, his face shining with adoration and excitement. "Sev!"

Harry twisted around and winced when another pin stuck him. The boy knew Severus? More importantly, the boy was close enough to him that he called him Sev?

"Do not call me that, Draco," Severus chastised, drawing himself up importantly. He looked between the boys and fought the urge to allow his mouth curl into a devious smile. An alliance between the two boys could be beneficial to both. "Where is your father?"

Draco averted his eyes. "He had to run a few errands. He left me with enough money to get my supplies and will return soon." He struggled to maintain his aristocratic stature and knew without a doubt that he was failing.

Severus stared at the boy. They both knew he was lying. Lucius Malfoy managed to drain a small portion of the Malfoy fortune in the ten years since his wife was killed. While it was only a small portion to them, it was as much money as some people make in their entire lives. The man had not worked since his wife died. He freed all but one of his House Elves and kept Draco so closed off from the world that the boy did not fully know how to interact with others. Just as well he knew that Draco flooed to Diagon Alley on his own and would return to his home without spending in excess. Draco was not being raised as a Malfoy should. While it was a blessing, it was also a curse.

"You will complete your shopping with myself and Mr. Potter. Do not think to argue. It will do you little good." He let out a sigh he knew no one would notice. His soft spot for Draco would be the death of him yet.

While the boys finished up, Severus considered the turn his life had taken. He was a steadfast mentor to Draco. Lucius was hardened to the world and mistrustful of the Ministry as well as the Death Eaters. He trusted only Severus, Draco and his infernal House Elf, Dobby, who went from being a metaphorical whipping boy to a trusted servant ten years previous. Severus knew without a doubt that if the Dark Lord were to come back, Lucius would not ally himself with him. Power was something Lucius always loved—until Narcissa's untimely death. His love for his wife and son managed to surpass his love for anything, so much, in fact, that he shut everyone except his son out when his wife died.

Draco hopped off the stool when he was finished and waited patiently for Harry to step down as well. He knew Harry Potter was powerful. Power was to be respected but never trusted, according to his father. Power can put you on top of the world and take away everything you ever loved in the same breath. "Come on, Potter," he drawled. "Sev has the patience of a lion awaiting a meal after starving for days."

"Stop shortening my name, you ridiculous boy. Come, children."

Harry glanced at Draco, saw he was unfazed by Severus's caustic tone, and decided he would not take anything the man said personally either.

Draco held his head high as he walked past the Quidditch supply store but could not keep the longing from his gaze. His father would not allow him on a broom. Not only was it dangerous but it was also beneath him.

"What is Quidditch?" Harry asked after following Draco's line of vision.

Draco turned to Harry in surprise. "What are you, a muggle?" he asked tartly.

Severus had the strong urge to cuff the boy around the head. He had no delicacy when it came to certain subjects. He led the boys into a shop to get their parchment and quills.

"I didn't even know I was a wizard until yesterday."

Draco stopped his jaw from dropping just in time. A Malfoy must always be poised. They were above such showing of emotions, but the young Malfoy could not seem to convince his face of such a thing. "Why?" he demanded. "You're famous. The whole bloody world knows your name!"

"Language, Mr. Malfoy," Severus snapped automatically. "A boy of your rank should not use such vulgarity."

Draco did not much care for the use of his family name, nor of the reminder of his rank. It sent an unnamed feeling into the pit of his stomach that made him squirm. "Sorry, Severus," he muttered. He turned to Harry and lowered his voice, his eyes alight with curiosity. "Are the muggles just terrible?"

Harry frowned and shrugged. "Muggles aren't terrible," he said delicately. He looked with interest at some color changing ink as he frowned in thought. His family was not terrible, though they could be when pushed. They had to endure his abnormality and did so the only way they knew how. There were others who were nicer, but they did not know the extent of his strangeness.

Draco realized there were some subjects that were not to be pushed. _Yet_. "Quidditch is the most amazing sport in the Wizarding World. It's _the_ Wizards' sport. _Everyone _follows Quidditch. There are four balls, and it's played on broomsticks." Harry listened in amazement as Draco went on to explain in detail about the snitch, the quaffel, and the bludgers before moving on to the players and the rules. It sounded brilliant, and Draco seemed to know an awful lot about it. "Too bad first years can't play," Draco said mournfully. "We can't even have our own broomsticks. It would be brilliant to fly around on a Nimbus Two Thousand." _Too bad father would pitch a fit of epic proportions if I tried_, he added mentally.

Severus recognized the wistful tone in the boy's voice. He cursed Bellatrix Lestrange for taking away the boy's only chance at having a semi-normal childhood. However, he had to thank Merlin for small favors. The child was not nearly as reliant on others as he would have been had his mother had been spared. "Boys. If you are finished, there is still the small matter of your supplies." He gestured to an array of parchment with a sneer.

"You'll get wrinkles if you keep frowning like that, Severus." Turning his attention to the quills, he grabbed one in a fit of excitement. "Look! A Dictating Quill!" Draco examined the quill as if willing it to give up its secrets. "It could take notes for me in class while I pursued other interests!"

"Dictating Quills are forbidden, as are the various cheating inks and quills advertised. Do not even consider it. _Either _of you."

Harry tuned him out as he studied the variety of ink bottles. Disappearing Ink, Color-changing, Coded Ink (Provides a code for you! Nary a one the same!). It was simply amazing. In the end, he chose plain black for school work and color-changing for himself. Draco was more interested in the different quills offered than the other supplies the store had to offer.

In the end, Severus had to choose sensible parchment and ink for Draco and made him choose practical quills. Harry surprised him by taking some time to choose good, quality supplies for himself. He handled the situation seriously, though he expressed excitement over parchment that wrote insults if the dictator's handwriting was not up to par.

"You know, Sev, you never got me a gift for my birthday," Draco pointed out nonchalantly as they passed Eeylops Owl Emporium. He gave the shop and emphatic look that was not lost on either of his accompaniments.

"Nor will I, you spoiled cretin of a child. You fail to do the one thing I have asked you repeatedly not to do. Further more, you have nearly everything a child of your age would want and more." Severus did not fail to notice the way Harry suddenly studied the ground before him. He knew it was the child's birthday, but he had no plans to acknowledge it. His indulgence only went so far, and its reaches did not extend to celebrations of any sort.

"I don't have a familiar. _Everyone_ needs a familiar. Harry needs a familiar too! He looks like he needs an owl—or a snake!"

Laughter bubbled deep in Harry's chest. "I could imagine my cousin's face," he snickered.

Draco studied the other boy. "You don't laugh much," he observed. "You smile a lot, but you don't laugh much."

"Neither do you," Harry pointed out self-consciously. "You don't even smile that much."

Draco shrugged and sniffed delicately. "You fail to amuse me."

Harry suddenly grinned. "You're a right ponce, Draco Malfoy."

Draco drew himself up, offended, before he began laughing.

After that, it was a flurry of laughter and teasing. The book shopping went simply enough, with much scanning through other books. Severus was bemused at the turn of events. Harry was a shy child, and Draco was severely lacking in control, but the two were more alike than most would be willing to see.

When shopping for the supplies specific for Severus's class, he was met with a set of eleven-year-olds. They wanted gold or silver cauldrons and then pure glass scales. "Your supply list clearly says _pewter_. It is that way for a reason, considering the potions we will be brewing could have adverse reactions to other elements."

"What about silver scales?" Draco asked hopefully.

"No. You will get what is on your list. If you so wish, you can convince your father that you clearly know more than your Potion Master."

Draco scuffed his foot against the floor and turned away with a valiantly concealed pout. He hated hearing reasonable arguments about why he couldn't get things he wanted. "Come on, Harry. Let's go look at Owls."

Severus accepted Harry's readily given bag of coins and despaired briefly over the boy's willingness to hand his money over to someone he barely knew. Draco dug out enough Galleons to cover his ingredients with a defiant look. "Do not look at me like that, Draco," Severus warned, though he silently approved of his methods.

Several minutes later, after shrinking the supplies and making sure they were separated accordingly, he strongly regretted allowing the boys to go off alone. "You bought an _owl_?" He was at his wit's end with the boys. Gauging Lucius's anger from afar, he realized the man would likely not be angry. It was still irritating that Draco would take such prerogatives with no consultation.

"I bought it for Harry. Well, we are going to share her." Draco looked fondly at the snowy owl. "Did you know it's Harry's birthday?"

"I didn't ask for it," Harry countered defensively. "I was just looking at her and we were talking—"

"It's your birthday," Draco cut in. "You _have_ to get _something_. Besides, I wanted her too."

Severus sighed to himself and let the subject drop. They had one last stop to make and then he could be rid of the boys.

The choosing of the wands was an interesting experience to say the least, and Severus was glad they waited to do it last. Ollivander greeted Severus by name and spouted off his wand core, how long it was and the wood it was created from. It was peculiar, the man's memory.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy. Yes, yes. Your father never came through my store, though I am very familiar with the wand he now possesses. Your mother, however…" He flashed a quick grin. "Fourteen inches, Rosewood. It had a peacock feather core which spoke volumes of her vanity." His mouth tightened and his eyes shadowed. "Come, boy. Let's get you measured. Your wand arm?" He set a measuring tape working on the blond and turned his strange, astute eyes on Harry.

Harry unconsciously moved closer to Snape who drew himself up in discomfort and moved away. He stood still as Ollivander moved closer. His wide, silver eyes were trained in concentration on the young boy's face. _"I thought I would be seeing you soon. Harry Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."_

_Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. Harry wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy._

"_Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it—it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."_

_Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes._

"_And that's where…"_

_Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger._

"_I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands…well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do…"_

Silence engulfed all present company. The only sounds came from the tape measure rapidly measuring everything from Draco's pinky finger to the shell of his ear. "Stand here, Mr. Potter. Enough," Mr. Ollivander commanded the tape. "Your wand arm?" Harry wordlessly held out his right arm, and the tape started on him.

"I believe I have just the wand for you, Mr. Malfoy. Dragon heartstring, Birch. Here we are, nine-and-a-half inches. Give it a wave."

Draco awkwardly took the wand and waved it. The wand was snatched away quickly and replaced with a new one. It took no more than four tries before the wand "found" him: Ten inches, made from Hawthorn with a Unicorn hair core. His excitement as the gold sparks showered down was palpable and Harry was eager to begin his search.

Draco stood with Severus as Ollivander shoved what seemed like every wand in the store into Harry's hand. As Harry's mood began to droop and Draco began to get bored, Ollivander got more and more excited. Harry was beginning to think that he was not a wizard at all when Ollivander voiced his wonder.

When Harry took the wand offered to him, he felt heat run from what he felt was his very core straight into the wand. A shower of multi-colored sparks rained onto the discarded wands.

"_Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well…how curious…how very curious…"_

Harry glanced at Draco and Severus who looked to be no more in the loop than he was. _"Sorry," said Harry, "but _what's _curious?"_

_Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare._

"_I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feathers is in your wand, gave another feather—just one other. It is very curios indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother—why, its brother gave you that scar."_

Severus felt the bottom fall out of his stomach. An absurd fear took up residence and he had little thought beyond that of pity for the boy. He would forever be connected to the insane man that claimed his parents and marked him for life.

Harry and Draco were silent as they paid for their wands and had them wrapped. "I think I must be getting back," Draco said regretfully. "Father will be worried." The afternoon sun was lowering in the sky, and his stomach was letting him know that his early lunch had been hours ago.

Severus inclined his head. "I will call on you soon, Draco. Give your father my best." He watched the boy make his way into the Leaky Cauldron before turning to Harry. He studied the subdued boy. "Are you hungry?" He was no good at comfort, or anything of the nature, but he knew that they were both in need of a late lunch or early dinner.

Harry was silent as Severus ordered their food and drink. "I don't think I will do well in Hogwarts. I don't know anything about the magical world. A man who I did nothing to tried to kill me as a baby." He looked into Severus's eyes with the tragic knowledge that the world he was being thrown into only expected great things from him. "I'm famous for something I can't even remember. Everyone seems to expect something from me, but I don't think they realize how little I have to give."

Severus studied the boy. Harry Potter closely resembled his father but had so much more of his mother in him than just her eyes. "Everyone has their crosses to bear, Mr. Potter. You should concentrate on being the rule-breaking little Gryffindor I know you will end up being. You are eleven, not seventeen."

Harry's mouth twisted into an ironic smile that spoke volumes of his maturity. "You don't like me much, do you sir?"

"No, Mr. Potter. I do not." Severus sat still as Harry processed his response. "I do not, however, _dis_like you. At least for not anything you have done thus far." He sat back to allow the food to be set before him. "There is one last thing I must ask of you. Do not think to lie to me." Placing the napkin in his lap, he gave Harry a searching look. "Does your Uncle—or your Aunt—abuse you in any way?"

Harry gave him a startled look. "No, sir," he said vehemently.

"He hit you last night," Severus pointed out mildly, picking up his fork.

Shifting uncomfortably, Harry mirrored Severus and picked up his fork. "I guess he was just mad. It doesn't happen often. I promise."

Severus nodded thoughtfully and made a silent vow to keep and a closer eye on the family. It would not do for the little Savior to be beat into submission by people of such insignificance. "After our meal, I will put you in a town car, the same we arrived in. Your train leaves September first at eleven o'clock sharp. Platform Three-Quarters is located between platform nine and ten. It is unplottable as my home is and you will have to walk through the wall to get there. Do not be frightened. No harm will come to you there."

Harry ate quickly while listening to the man. He did not want the day to end. He did not want Severus to leave him. "Yes, sir," he said quickly when the man seemed to expect a response.

Severus nodded curtly and resumed eating.

"What's a Gryffindor?" Harry ventured as he finished his meal.

Severus paused. "It is a house within Hogwarts. There are four: Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw." Reluctantly, he said, "Your parents were in Gryffindor."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "What house were you in, sir?"

"I was in Slytherin, Harry. That is enough. Finish your meal."

Before he knew it, Harry was loaded into the town car with a trunk full of school supplies, as well as his owl and his ticket to Hogwarts. Draco had allowed him to take her home for his birthday with the promise that Harry could name her whatever he liked. It would be a long month before he could begin his schooling.


	4. Chapter 3: Journey to Hogwarts

**_A/N: I would like to apologize for the lack of update. I took on a course load in school that left me little time to do much except work, study, go to school and occasionally sleep. I have a bit of a break so I will definitely try to get updates up quicker. Reviews do help though. _**

****_J.K. Rowling's original words are in Italics._

Harry stared up at the ceiling with a feeling of complete and utter despair. September 1 was less than a week away, and he was very nearly convinced that the events on his birthday had been a figment of his imagination.

The events since his homecoming were not the worst it could have been, but it was still pretty bad. The Dursleys started with completely ignoring his presence. He was not woken up to make breakfast or asked to do menial household chores. However, he was also not served food. They did not spare him a single thought. At first.

It was not until he tried getting food from the kitchen himself that things went downhill. His uncle, who rarely hit him, used Dudley's Smelting stick to spank him. As those things go, Harry's entire backside, including his thighs and back, had purple stripes across them. Things regressed from there.

Harry was fed once a day when they remembered and generally ignored unless he did something that they felt warranted punishment. Uncle Vernon had never been particularly heavy-handed, but Harry had been spanked more in the weeks since his eleventh birthday than in his whole life.

Although he knew it was wrong of his family, he could not begrudge them. The anger within his uncle was born from fear of the unknown. Magic was not something that was particularly fathomable in relation to his idea of a normal existence. That a child within their own household would exhibit not only signs but outright displays of magic was a source of deep fright for the Dursleys. Harry's suffering for their fears was an unfortunate side-effect, but it was something that he had become accustomed to.

Another of the things that had happened that was nearly a comfort was the retraction of the second bedroom. He was put back into the cupboard "for Dudley's safety." It made his punishments more uncomfortable, as he was forced to sleep on his stomach in such a cramped space, but he did not mind the small space. The desperate feelings within him, however, scared him. He did not know if he was going to be able to make it to Hogwarts. When he brought up the fact that he needed a ride to King's Cross Station to his uncle, the response was basically that he would need to find his own way.

Hedwig was with Draco, sent with instructions to keep her until school began. Harry did not want to subject the beautiful owl to the cramped space, along with his school trunk and himself. The solitary existence was painful, but at least there was no other creature treated the same.

That conviction was nearly impossible to hang onto when staring up at the ceiling, stomach empty to the point of pain.

…

Severus stared into the fire lit within his hearth with an expression of disgust. "Draco, have I a need to assign you detention _before_ the term begins?" he asked. Floo was not a dangerous means of traveling, but he knew without a doubt that Lucius would never allow his son to risk it alone.

Draco took on a petulant look, but it was wiped off a moment later when the reason for the clandestine floo call came back to him. "I think Harry is in trouble, Sev!"

Though Severus's facial features did not alter, his heart certainly stuttered. "Do tell, Mr. Malfoy."

The flat look accompanying the order did little to persuade the boy that Severus did not care. "He sent me Hedwig—that's what he named our owl! There was a note that said to keep her until the first night of school, but you know...I wanted to talk to him, to tell him about father and the Manor. I sent Hedwig with a letter, but she brought it back. I thought maybe the owl was just stupid so I sent her back. She came back again so I thought maybe Harry was just mad or something."

Severus listened to the boy prattle on with growing anxiety. Perhaps he did The Boy Who Lived a disservice by sending him back to the wretched muggles. Perhaps something had befallen the young savior. There was no way the child was as spoiled as he initially thought or hoped, so it was doubtful the lack of correspondence was out of irritability.

"I sent her back yesterday," Draco continued, apparently not noticing or not caring about his Professor's distress, "and she came back today with the same letter, except this time it looked like someone tried to hurt her." He uneasily looked up at Severus.

The crackle of the fire was the only sound within the room. "Perhaps you are mistaken, Draco," Severus said silkily after a long stretch of silence.

"Someone tried to yank her feathers out!" Draco raged. "She would barely allow Father to look at her wing. I know there is something wrong, Severus. Harry wouldn't just-" The boy silenced and turned his head as if listening to something. A look of despair took over his small face and he huffed. "I am sorry to have bothered you with my paranoid ramblings. Perhaps you are correct in assuming I am mistaken. Good evening, Severus."

With a droll look, Severus banked the fire and prepared to depart. It was the night before the children were due to arrive, and it would not hurt to check to make sure the child was okay.

…

Harry huffed as he dragged his trunk from his family's house. His back, legs and behind were aflame as he stomped away. There were no tears to be had as he paved his way down the street, and it was not until he ran straight into a solid object did he realize that his glasses did not survive his escape.

"Mr. Potter," Severus said sharply, "where do you think you're going?" His obsidian eyes took in everything from the oversized clothing to the empty bird cage sitting atop the rather large trunk. The boy's glasses were nowhere to be found, and the squinting was enough to give anyone a headache.

"Heading to London," Harry answered begrudgingly. He suddenly found himself having to resist the urge to rub his bum. The adult before him reminded him sorely of his most recent punishment.

Worried, Severus glanced up at 4 Privet Drive. "You planned on walking from here to London?" he checked.

Huffing, Harry rubbed his eyes. He was hungrier than he had ever been in his entire life, which somehow made him more exhausted than ever. On top of that, he suddenly felt the need to cry and beg his new professor to take him away from his terrible relatives. Instead, he stood up straighter and lifted his chin defiantly. "I can take care of myself."

"Read that street sign for me, Potter," Severus instructed. He was irritated, and Harry's sudden likeness to his father was not helping.

"Magnolia Crescent," Harry answered, barely glancing at it.

Right, Severus thought dryly. The boy had been living in the same place nearly his entire life. "You can no more see that than you can see the Continent from here. Explain yourself."

"The train leaves at eleven so I figure I have plenty of time to find the train station."

"From here." It was not a question but a clarification of what was being said. It was a completely ludicrous idea the boy had, and he wanted to be sure before he completely blew his top.

Harry's bristled. "Yes." He gripped his trunk as he swayed. Though his behind was aching, he wished he had been successful in his attempt to grab some food before he left.

"Where are your glasses? Your journey would be quite a bit more pleasant if you could see."

Harry shrugged. "Dudley crushed them," he answered matter-of-factly. "Even the lenses were useless."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. Draco was not wrong then. "Are you hurt?"

Harry's hand twitched toward his back, but he stopped himself. "I'm fine. Dudley and I got into a little scuffle and my glasses didn't make it is all."

The movement of Harry's hand did not escaped the older man's notice, but he decided not to pursue it in their current setting. "Why are you planning on walking to the train station rather than riding with your relatives?"

Harry swallowed convulsively. "My uncle does not want to take me. He told me to find my own way." He pretended to scratch his back and carefully readjusted his pants. "So I am."

"You are a ridiculous child, Potter. Did I not tell you that you are famous? That fame comes with enemies, boy. Departing from your relatives home on this absurd little adventure is not beneficial to your overall health." Mentally counting to three, he sighed. "Why did you send your owl to Draco after agreeing to keep her for the duration of the summer?"

Scuffing his foot on the sidewalk, Harry tried to come up with a plausible excuse. His stomach was hurting so badly, and the lack of food for so long was making him dizzy. It was hard to think beyond that. "I—She-"

Severus grabbed the boy before he could pitch forward and hurt himself. "Potter," he snarled, angry in his alarm. "What has gotten into you, boy?"

"'M hungry," Harry muttered, trying to shake the man off. He was fine, just a little dizzy.

Suddenly cold with anger, Severus asked in a low voice, "When is the last time you ate?"

Rubbing his back, Harry tried to focus. "Yester—no. I think it was-" He tilted his head and studied Severus's cloak. "Maybe yesterday."

With an angry start, Severus grabbed the trunk and hauled Harry into his arms. The boy weighed no more than a child years younger, and that fact made the Potion Master more incensed. He wavered between confronting the pathetic family or getting Harry some food.

It took no more than a few minutes to find his way into Figg's home. Though there was an initial struggle when pulling the boy into his arms, Harry was wrapped securely when they walked through the door. "I need to use your Floo," he said firmly, when they were alone.

Harry watched in surprise as his old babysitter produced a flowery pot full of some sort of powder. "Ms. Figg?" he asked in surprise.

"I'm sure this is something of a surprise, dear," Ms. Figg said kindly. "Do try and have a good year at school."

Harry slid from Severus's arms as instructed and stood silently as the professor shrunk the trunk and placed it in his own pocket. "Come, Potter. As this is your first Floo experience, I would rather you come along with me. I do not want you to fall out of some random fireplace." Severus tossed a handful of powder into the flames and ushered the small boy forward. Trustingly, Harry went and instinctively held onto the older man when he said, "Spinner's End!"

Harry fell to his knees before the hearth, coughing up soot. He was yanked to his feet and _scourgified_ before pushed into a chair. With a small yelp, he readjusted himself only to be yanked back to his feet.

Severus swore colorfully when he pulled Harry's shirt up. Without a thought for the boy's modesty, he pulled the too-large pants down and grit his teeth in anger. Colorful stripes of varying degrees of healing patterned Harry's entire backside.

"It's nothing," Harry protested, trying to pull his shirt down.

"Cease your movements and do not dare utter a defense for those miserable people." A quick summoning charm brought a poultice and a cream. Within minutes, Harry was able to sit semi-comfortably in the chair he had initially been pushed into. "Batty!"

The house elf popped into existence, startling Harry into clearing off a side table with his elbow. Batty put it to rights with a quick snap of his fingers before the boy could apologize. "What will Master be wanting, sir?"

An assessing eye allowed Severus to decide, "A bowl of soup and crackers—plenty of vegetables if you will." When the elf was gone, the man took a seat across from the boy. "We seem to have come across a bit of an issue." He slowly leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He was bone-tired, not at all accustomed to taking on the emotional baggage that came with caring for a child. It was certainly not something he planned to make a habit of.

Harry scratched at a stain on his pants he felt with his fingers. It hurt his head to try and focus on the professor's face so he let his eyes fall closed. "There's no issue, sir." There was a vague feeling of unease that almost made him wish for the solitary safety of his cupboard. No one ever came into his cupboard so he was safe there.

Many emotions were coursing through Severus, but annoyance was predominant. "Your relatives are abusive, Mr. Potter. That would constitute as an issue."

Harry huffed. "I was spanked. There are many children who have it worse. Dudley likes to knock me around, but I only ever get hit in the face if I did something really bad. So I don't eat like Dudley does. Having two children can't be easy, especially when one is doing freaky things."

Severus wanted to silence the boy. He wanted to wipe the hopeful, earnest look from his face. The boy still saw the best in his fool relatives. "Mr. Potter, your abuse is predominantly neglect. The corporal punishment bestowed upon you was excessive and undoubtedly uncalled for. While bad in and of itself, you are also malnourished, badly clothed, barely sheltered, and completely and utterly unloved." Everything was laid out, in a harsh manner, but Severus could not afford to pull any punches. "Neglect is abuse, Mr. Potter, and it is, at times, the worst kind."

Blinking rapidly at the information spilling from the gaunt man's mouth, Harry's throat was suddenly tight with emotion. It was not as if any of the information was news, but it hurt to have it laid out like that. Unloved. He crossed his arms and pinched his inner arm to stem the tears that he knew were coming. A bowl of vegetable soup popped up beside him as Severus pulled his hand away from his arm.

Severus was out of his depth. Letting matters lie was not his favorite thing to do, but he did not know how to help the child. He was not one for emotion. "Eat your soup. I will find a suitable replacement for your spectacles before I take you to the train tomorrow." He held onto the hand until he was sure the child was not about to resume his previous actions.

"You're not going to take me to the school yourself?" Harry asked, surprised as his eyes stared into the blurry face of his professor. He ached for the professor to retake his hand. Instead, he rubbed his hand against the arm of the chair.

"Your first train ride is not one you would like to miss," Severus said stiffly, though he had hated his first train ride. A particular incident involving Sirius Black and James Potter came to mind, but he quashed the thought before it could fully form.

No response was forth coming as Harry tucked into the soup. It was his first solid meal in quite a while, and he savored it to the last drop, feeling warmer than he thought possible. He did not realize he had drifted off to sleep until his shoes were tugged from his feet.

"S'rry Pr'ffessor," he mumbled, turning into the comfortable pillow. He could not find it in himself to mind as his shirt was pulled up and the feeling of something rubbed into his aching back took over.

"Just sleep, child," was the exasperated response. "Batty will fetch you in the morning."

Though he did not believe it possible, Harry slept until the eager house elf woke him. Once again, his clothes were replaced by nicer ones, and his shoes were polished. The house elf led Harry once again to the kitchen where Severus was already seated.

Harry automatically took the glasses that were pressed into his hand and placed them on his face. He blinked in surprise when everything came into sharp focus, far more clear than his old glasses. "Sir," he said in amazement. "I can see everything so well."

Severus nodded thoughtfully. "I suspect your old glasses were not updated in quite sometime. Your eyes have gotten worse over time, Mr. Potter. These glasses are charmed to adjust to those changes." He resolutely did not feel guilty for spending the extra amount on the square, silver, wire-framed glasses that were purposely very different from the ones James Potter owned.

Harry wished he could see how he looked. His new glasses were so much different from his old ones. "Um. I know glasses are expensive, sir." He stood up to go get his coin pouch.

"Where do you think you are going?" Severus asked sharply.

"To go get the money to pay you back," Harry answered nervously, confused.

"Sit. The glasses are a—a belated birthday gift, boy. Eat your breakfast so we can be on our way."

"You're riding the train with me, sir?" Harry asked, almost hopefully, as he poured honey into his oatmeal. He was giddy as there were nuts to put in along with the honey. He never got to eat so richly!

Severus contemplated how fun it would be to sit with Harry on the train. He would terrify even the boldest seventh years. He banished that thought, since it was nigh impossible. There were things to prepare for at Hogwarts. "No, Po—Harry. I'm certain that my presence would repel any possible friend prospects for you. I will drop you off outside of the train station and allow you to make your way onto the platform yourself."

Eating with gusto, Harry felt warmed when he realized the professor called him by his first name. There was less sneering when he called him by his first name. "What's going to happen?" he asked when he was finished with his breakfast.

The _Daily Prophet_ was folded and placed on the table before Severus turned his attention to Harry. "Explain," he coaxed.

"Well," Harry said, drawing out the word as he thought. "I don't want my aunt and uncle to get in any trouble. I don't know what's going to happen from here, and I also don't know what the train is going to be like-or Hogwarts!" New thoughts were suddenly occurring to him as they poured out of his mouth. "What if everyone hates me? I don't know anything so I'm sure I'm going to end up failing out of _everything_. Everyone knows me so I'm probably not going to live up to anyone's expectations, and probably no one will like me. I'm a freak. What if I don't get into _any _house? What if everyone hates me so much I get sent home?"

"Stop," Severus ordered before the boy could go on. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. The beginning of a headache was coming on. "I have not decided what I am going to do about your despicable family. As for your other worries...they are unfounded. Drink your juice so we can leave." He stared at him until the order was complied and gestured for the boy to stand. "Your trunk is in the drawing room. We will not floo directly onto the platform, as I have no wish to be subjected to the little dunderheads before I have to be. We will floo to a nearby outlet, and I will escort you from there."

"Was there something in that juice?" Harry asked as Severus followed him into the drawing room.

Eyebrows raised in surprise, Severus nodded. "How did you know?" he asked curiously.

Harry shrugged, nonplussed. Somehow he trusted the dour man. "There was a certain texture and the slightest hint of an almost..." A puzzled look overtook the young face. "I guess it was like a spicy taste?"

Severus was genuinely impressed. "Your juice was mixed with a nutrition potion. The spicy taste was the mixture of oak leaves and newt eyes. It creates the spicy taste." He quietly appraised the boy. "It is ordinarily not detected except by those skilled at such things."

The impressed tone was bellied by the thought that he had just drank something containing newt eyes. "Newt eyes?" he asked faintly.

"You will find, Mr. Potter, that much of the potions you will make for consumption hold something that would ordinarily make one want to expel the contents of one's stomach."

Harry looked up at the professor. "That's okay with me, sir, I would just not like to know when that is the case."

Smirking, Severus shrunk his belongings. "You may go to our destination separately if you wish." He indicated the pot of floo powder.

Remembering the feeling of being transferred from one fireplace to another, Harry shook his head emphatically. His only saving grace had been Severus anchoring him.

"Very well. Come." Severus tossed a handful of floo powder into the flames and stepped in, pulling Harry close with an arm across his chest. The trip was short, and Harry managed to stay on his feet when they arrived.

"You will want to change into your robes on the train," Severus instructed as they approached King's Cross Station. "Try not to overindulge on sweets, and behave yourself. It is a mode of transportation, not a playground."

Harry nodded dutifully and accepted his trunk, which had been put to rights when they arrived in London. "Yes, sir. Thank you for bringing me." He stared down at his hands, which were gripping the trunk tightly. He felt choked with emotion but couldn't put his finger on the reason.

"Remember, Harry. School is much different from my home. I will not coddle you or hold your hand through your trials. Come to me if you feel the need, but do not expect to be pampered."

Taking offense, Harry drew himself up. "I don't expect pampering from anyone," he said stonily before turning on his heal and attempting to march away.

Severus swiftly grabbed his arm and forced him to turn back around. "I did not mean to hurt your fragile feelings. I just do not want you to expect too much out of our relationship. It would only lead to heartache." _For both of us_.

Harry rolled his eyes, ignoring the tightening in his chest. Severus had cared for him as no one else had, and it hurt to hear such a thing. "Don't worry, Professor. I can take care of myself."

Severus allowed the boy to leave, though he wanted to shake him. He was obviously a scare little boy, but his temerity left a lot to be desired. It reminded Severus far too much of the late James Potter, and that would not do. He quietly stalked into the train station when he felt Harry had sufficient time to get ahead and watched as the boy stood in front of the platform and fidgeted. Just when he thought he would have to guide the boy, Molly Weasley showed up with her brood. He found himself a secluded place and Disapparated to Hogsmeade, confident that Harry was in good hands.

All bravado was gone when Harry approached the wall between platforms nine and ten. He tried not to be frightened as instructed, but it was difficult. He could not bring himself to push through the apparently solid wall. Just as he was about to push his pride aside and go find Severus, his ears perked up.

"_-packed with Muggles, of course-"_

_Harry swung around. The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk like Harry's in front of him—and they had an _owl.

Harry fidgeted in place, his heart hammering as the motherly woman inquired about the platform number. He stood still and watched the approach and then apparent disappearance of the oldest boy. In a dizzying succession, all but the last boy disappeared. With a sinking heart, Harry realized he would have to ask for help.

"_Excuse me," Harry said to the plump woman. _

"_Hello, dear," she said. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too."_

_She pointed at the last and youngest of her sons. He was tall, thin, and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long nose._

"_Yes," said Harry. "The thing is—the thing is, I don't know how to-"_

"_How to get onto the platform?" she said kindly, and Harry nodded._

"_Not to worry," she said. "All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on, go now before Ron."_

Harry swallowed his fear and faced the wall. _It looked very solid. He started to walk toward it. People jostled him on their way to platforms nine and ten. Harry walked more quickly. He was going to smash right into that barrier and then he'd be in trouble—leaning forward on his cart, he broke into a heavy run—the barrier was coming nearer and nearer—he wouldn't be able to stop—the cart was out of control—he was a foot away—he closed his eyes ready for the crash-_

_It didn't come...he kept on running...he opened his eyes._

It was the most majestic thing he had ever laid eyes on. A scarlet steam engine straight from the movies was already packed with people. Awe-filled, he could do nothing but stare. It was not until a snowy owl perched on his trunk that he came back to himself. "Hedwig!" he exclaimed in excitement, reverently running his fingers over the white feathers. His head immediately snapped up and sought out Draco, who was standing with a tall, handsome man. The man had long, white-blond hair, and his robes looked to be of the very best quality. It was with caution that Harry approached the Malfoys.

"Hello, Harry," Draco said politely, with an air of nobility that Harry did not quite care for. "I see that you made it safely."

Harry glanced up at the older gentleman beside Draco and was rewarded with a restrained nod. "Hello, Draco," he said, struggling to match the other boy's tone. "I see that you made it safely as well." He turned to the taller man and stared up at him, no fear present within him. "Hello, Mr. Malfoy. My name is Harry Potter."

"There is not a person here that does not know your name," Lucius assured the boy. "You may call me Lucius if you so desire." He turned to his son. "I told you nothing was amiss. He made it here safely from his relatives."

"Actually, Se—Professor Snape had to come get me," Harry interrupted, forgetting his attempt at matching their regal attitudes. "I was going to walk, but he didn't really like that idea." A frown took up the little boy's face before he brightened. "I'm going to go find a seat."

Lucius watched the boy walk away. Though he was not fond of being proven wrong, he wished he had been right more than ever in this particular case. There was something disconcerting about the little savior. Almost as if he was older than his age indicated. "Befriend him but be careful," he advised his son.

In an undignified and uncharacteristic show of affection, Draco threw his arms around his father's middle and hugged him tightly. There had never been a time when he was away from his father for more than a few days. Quickly reigning in his emotions, he stepped back and schooled his features. "Yes, Father."

Lucius smiled softly. There were times when Draco reminded him so much of Narcissa that he wanted to hold the boy tightly and never let him go. "Behave, son." He passed his hand over the neatly coiffed hair. "I love you."

Draco beamed up at his father. "I love you too, Father." He turned toward the train with his heavily laden trunk. He quickly turned back. "Owl me, Father."

Lucius smirked. "Very well, Draco." He waited patiently for Draco to board before Apparating back to the manner, which felt far too empty. It was going to be a long term.

When Draco finally found Harry, he discovered another occupant along with him. "Ronald Weasley," he said stiffly.

Ron's face immediately turned red. "Draco Malfoy."

Harry looked dubiously between the two boys. "Ron, this is my friend Draco, who you seem to already know..."

Ron pulled his jacket around himself. "I know of him. Son of Lucius Malfoy, _guiltless_ Death Eater, grandson of Abraxas Malfoy, _ruthless_ and _unashamed_ Death Eater. He is the product of two of the darkest pure-blood wizarding families for centuries." His dark gaze let Draco know he knew of him.

Alarmed, Harry looked at Draco, who pulled himself to his full height. "Ronald Weasley, youngest son of a family of nine. Pure-blood, poor, but powerful by sheer bulk alone." He resolutely turned his back on Ron and settled his trunk. "Powerful family, especially in love."

The last part was said quietly, but it caused Ron to soften. "Sorry," he muttered. "I didn't mean to say-"

"Yes, you did," Draco said stiffly. "Do not insult me but trying to retract your words." He raised his head and looked Ron in the eye. "My father was exonerated, my mother murdered by her own sister. I have learned through my family's mistakes, Weasley."

Harry looked between the two boys, sympathy coating his gaze. Though the Dursleys were not poor, he could sympathize with wearing hand-me-downs and eating next to nothing. As well, he could sympathize with the loss of Draco's mother.

Silence infused the cart until Ron bluntly asked, "Can I see your scar?"

Harry glanced at Draco, who was trying his best not to look overly interested. With a sigh, he pulled back his bangs to show the lightning bolt shaped scar. "Wicked," Ron breathed.

Draco leaned in close with a puzzled frown. "It's not faded," he said thoughtfully. "It looks like it was just done last week or something."

Harry smoothed his bangs down and gently pushed the other boy back. "I don't know why. I've had it all my life." He fidgeted in his seat, not liking the hero worship he saw in Ron's eyes.

Draco, tactfully, maneuvered the subject to Quidditch. Ron was appropriately interested and argued the finer points of the Chudley Cannons' strategies with the blond boy. Harry was content to listen to the two argue.

When the trolley came by, Ron watched glumly as the other two boys got a little of everything. He stared down at his corned beef sandwiches and wished his family was richer.

Draco and Harry shared a look when they noticed Ron's mood. In an atypical show of kindness, Draco showered the boy with a handful of Chocolate Frogs. "Dig in," he said. His attempt at a friendly smile was rewarded with a beaming smile from Harry.

Ron slowly unwrapped a Chocolate Frog and listened in amusement as Draco explained wizarding candies and pastries to Harry. "It's hard to believe you don't know anything about the wizarding world," he said through a mouth full of chocolate.

Draco gave the boy a disgusted look, which he attempted to wipe away when Harry nudged him. "Growing up with muggles will do that," he pointed out instead of berating the boy for talking with his mouth full.

Conversation halted when the compartment door was pushed open to reveal a round-faced boy Harry vaguely remembered passing on the platform. He looked as if he'd been crying. He was accompanied by a bushy-haired girl.

"_Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"_

The three boys exchanged looks, and Harry shook his head. "No. Sorry."

"You're Harry Potter!" the busy-haired girl exclaimed, startling the toad boy. "I'm Hermione Granger and this is Neville. I read about you in _Modern Magical History_ and-"

"I'm in books?" Harry cried in dismay.

Draco smirked. "You're famous, Potter," he pointed out unhelpfully.

Unbidden, panic began to engulf Harry. He struggled to control his breathing and sank into himself in a broody silence. He barely took notice when Neville and Hermione exited the compartment.

Draco glanced at his friend and turned to Ron, who looked just as worried. He shook his head when the red-head opened his mouth. "Tell me about your brothers," he suggested. Though he was not truly interested, he could protect Harry by pretending.

"_Charlie's in Romania studying dragons, and Bill's in Africa doing something for Gringotts," said Ron. "Did you hear about Gringotts? It's been all over the _Daily Prophet-_"_

"Father told me about it. Someone tried to rob a high security vault."

Harry turned his head, suddenly interested. "What happened to them?" he asked.

Ron turned to him eagerly. _"Nothing, that's why it's such big news. They haven't been caught. My dad says it must've been a powerful Dark wizard to get round Gringotts, but they don't think they took anything, that's what's odd. 'Course, everyone get scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who's behind it."_

Draco shrugged as if it was no matter. "I think if You-Know-Who were to return, he would be less concerned with Gringotts vaults and more concerned with rounding up his followers."

Ron shrugged in agreement, though it was interrupted by the compartment door opening again. The bushy-haired girl stuck her head in. _"You'd better hurry up and put your robes on, I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor and he says we're nearly there."_

Excitement built up in the compartment as the three boys changed, making them act sillier. They shoved each other about and gathered the remaining candy to stuff wherever they could within their belongings. "I didn't think I would have this much fun on the train to school," Draco confessed when he sat primly beside Ron, who plopped down without care.

"Why not?" Harry asked. The darkness beyond the glass gave nothing away as to their whereabouts, but it did nothing to stem the excitement.

Resisting the urge to fidget, Draco shrugged. "I don't really talk to many people beyond my father. I thought it would be difficult to make friends."

"We already knew each other, though," Harry protested.

"I thought you didn't want to talk to me," Draco asserted. "You never even took my post, and you haven't even told me why."

Harry shrugged as it if didn't matter. "I didn't get it." He would not say anything beyond that, putting both boys in a cross mood.

Ron sighed softly and dug around the sweet wrappers for his rat. Tucking him in his robe pocket, he began to clean things up.

Harry silently joined in. "I'm sorry, Draco. I don't want to talk about it right now, okay?" He silently begged the other boy to understand.

Draco did not, but inclined his head in agreement just as a voice echoed throughout the train. _"We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."_

The boys grinned at each other, the excitement back as they made their way into the crowd getting ready to exit.

After greeting Hagrid, the three boys followed the half-giant. Harry was quivering with anticipation and he glanced at Draco to find him in much the same state. Slipping and sliding their way to a bank filled with boats, Harry gasped audibly when he caught sight of Hogwarts.

There were similar exclamations throughout the crowd as they were ushered into boats. Harry thought the train was majestic, but Hogwarts was truly a sight to behold. There were so many lights, and it was huge.

Harry shivered in the night air as the boats lurched forward. He was in a boat with Ron, Draco, and the busy-haired girl—Hermione. It was not until they were at the door and Hagrid was knocking that the truth of the matter really hit Harry. He was at Hogwarts. He made it.

_**Review and tell me what you think.**_


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